


2,000 Euros

by RobotSquid



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Sex, Light Roleplay Elements, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Tearing clothes, Teasing, Yuuri being a queen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-14 10:18:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9176599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobotSquid/pseuds/RobotSquid
Summary: Victor grabbed at the front of Yuuri’s costume again and tore through the mesh that covered his chest.  The material split against his fingers with ease.  The spandex was less forgiving once he reached it, and he grabbed it in an angry fist, tugging so hard that Yuuri’s body jerked beneath him.  There was something lewdly forbidden about the sound of ripping fabric, and Victor was quickly finding out that he liked it—very much.--Translated into Italian by isa-orsa.tumblr.com!  Read it here:  http://my.w.tt/UiNb/zV2ynKTgFz





	

**Author's Note:**

> I've wanted to do this type of scenario for a long time and my God was it fun <3
> 
> Please enjoy!

The applause of the crowd was deafening as Yuuri completed his final spin.  He felt a swell of pride as flowers and plush toys began to rain down onto the ice.  It wasn’t the best that he had ever performed “Eros”, but this was definitely the most enthusiastic reaction he’d gotten for it.

He caught his breath and waved to the crowd, then scanned the edge of the rink for the person he’d really been performing for.

As expected, Victor was already at the kiss and cry, arms extended and a glowing smile on his face.  Yuuri grinned and skated over to him as quickly as he could.  The crowd roared again when he gave Victor a deep kiss upon entering his embrace.  A flurry of camera flashes almost blinded him as they pulled away from one another.  According to Phichit, a well-angled photo of one of his and Victor’s famous post-routine kisses was highly coveted.

That was about the limit that Yuuri could take of public displays of affection.  He took his seat next to Victor on the bench, clutching a katsudon plushie, of all things, that actually looked like it had been handmade.  He’d have to remember to upload a picture of it later and thank whichever fan had thrown it to him.

Victor hugged Yuuri tight.  Victor was radiating heat, the scent of his skin mixing with the familiar aroma of his favorite cologne, almost if he’d been the one skating.  “How do you think you did, Yuuri?” he asked.

Yuuri shrugged.  “Not my best.  But….”  He turned and flashed Victor a look.  “I think everyone enjoyed it.”

“I think so too,” Victor replied.  He sat up straight, but kept one arm around Yuuri’s shoulders.

When the score came in, it was enough to put Yuuri in first place for now, but it wasn’t a personal best.

“You still did a wonderful job, my love,” Victor said, standing up and extending a hand to Yuuri.

“Hmm,” Yuuri replied noncommittally.  He took Victor’s hand and stood; they began to walk backstage.  “I just hope I gave the audience a good memory since I won’t be doing that routine anymore.”

“It sounds to me like they’ll remember it for a long time.”

Yuuri looked over his shoulder.  There were no cameras or reporters anywhere around.  He grabbed Victor’s hand and led him around the next corner.  He shoved Victor up against the wall, leaning in close and lowering his eyelids just slightly.

“I wasn’t talking about them,” he said softly, lowering his voice.  “You know who my audience is, Victor.”

The brief shock in Victor’s eyes quickly turned to excitement.  “I could never forget your _eros_ , Yuuri.  You show me every day, after all.”

“Is that so?”  Yuuri clicked his tongue.  “Because I’m pretty sure about—” he pressed his palm flat against Victor’s chest and slowly pushed upward towards his face “—halfway through?  You were looking at Christophe and not me.”

His fingertips touched the knot of Victor’s tie, and he wrapped his fingers around the cloth and tugged gently.  “Am I mistaken?”

Victor swallowed audibly.  Yuuri pulled harder, bringing their lips so close together that Victor could have flicked out his tongue and been inside Yuuri’s mouth.  He realized that he was clenching his hands into fists against the wall, and he forced a smile.

“I never take my eyes off you, Yuuri,” Victor assured him, with the sweetest voice he could muster.  He touched his forehead to Yuuri’s and pushed forward just the tiniest bit.  “You know that, don’t you, my love?”

Yuuri briefly raised his eyebrows and made an unimpressed noise.  Victor leaned in to cross the breath that separated them, to press his lips to Yuuri’s beautiful, soft, un-kissed lips.

A camera crew rounded the corner, and Yuuri stepped away as if nothing at all had happened.

“Yuuri Katsuki!” a reporter yelled, shoving a microphone in his face.  “What are your thoughts on today’s short program?”

Yuuri put on his most practiced smile for the camera, but not before glancing over his shoulder at Victor.  The look in his eyes was positively devilish.

Victor swallowed again as Yuuri turned away to answer the reporter’s question.

\--

They were late leaving.  All the other skaters had left and most of the stadium had been cleared by the time Yuuri finally headed over to the locker rooms to change.

“Aaah, I just might die of hunger if we don’t get some food soon,” Victor whined as they walked into the empty room.  He set down the tissue box, Yuuri’s bouquet of flowers, the katsudon plushie, and at least three other stuffed animals on the bench—all of which Yuuri had made him carry.  “Change quickly, Yuuri, so we can go get something to eat.”

“Hmm,” Yuuri said, scrolling through something on his phone.  “Did you see that I’m trending?”

“You are?”

Yuuri turned the phone so Victor could see.  “The hashtag ‘Yuuri’s last eros’ is trending online.  Seems people are really sad that I’m retiring the program.”  He looked at the screen again.  “There’s quite a few pictures of me too.”

Victor came up behind Yuuri, wrapping his arms around a warm, slender waist.  He rested his head on Yuuri’s shoulder.  “Can I see?” he asked sweetly.

Yuuri abruptly turned his phone off and glared over his shoulder.  “I bet you’d like to, wouldn’t you?  Since you weren’t watching me at all when I did it in real life.”

“Yuuri!” Victor exclaimed, trying his best to sound affronted.  “You know I only have eyes for you.”

Yuuri crossed his arms and leaned his head away when Victor tried to kiss him.  “Your last chance to see it, and you didn’t take full advantage of my show.”  He huffed lightly.

“Сладкиииииий,” Victor purred directly into Yuuri’s ear, successfully sending a shiver through his body.  “Sweetheart.  My love.  Я люблю тебя всей душой.  I love you with all of my soul.”

He could feel Yuuri suppressing a giggle as his body gently shook in his arms.  Victor smiled and squeezed Yuuri tighter; he pressed a kiss to the side of his neck and was rewarded with the feeling of Yuuri’s palm on his cheek.

“You know what I was thinking?”

“What’s that?”  Victor spoke the words directly into Yuuri’s skin.

“Since I won’t be doing ‘Eros’ anymore…I won’t be needing this costume anymore either.”

Victor’s eyes flew open.  Yuuri was glancing at him sideways, the barest hint of a smirk on his lips.  “Such a shame,” Yuuri went on.  “I love wearing it for you.”

Delicate fingers moved from Victor’s face up into his hair, taking firm hold and sending pleasant spikes of pain through Victor’s skull.  Victor didn’t even blink as the almost tangible sensation of Yuuri’s gaze spilled over him.

Yuuri grinned, flashing teeth white as ice.  “Somebody’s getting excited.”

Victor almost hated how smug Yuuri sounded when he said that, but he loved it at the same time.  “Yes, someone is,” he retorted, letting his fingers drag down Yuuri’s torso and beneath his waist.

The tiny, audible swallow set Victor’s whole body ablaze.  With his free hand, Victor gently pulled Yuuri’s hand away from his hair, and he began to press small kisses to each of Yuuri’s fingers.  Every joint, every knuckle, and each fingernail.  His fingers were lovely, impossibly smooth and perfectly crafted.  Victor loved the feeling of them, in his own hands, in his mouth, all over his body.

He placed the final kiss on the back of Yuuri’s hand, on the mesh fabric of his costume’s glove.  He met Yuuri’s eyes, and though Yuuri’s expression was remarkably composed, his face had turned several shades of deep scarlet.

“Something’s in the way,” Victor said matter-of-factly.

Without breaking eye contact or releasing Yuuri’s trembling hand, Victor reached for the zipper on the back of his costume.

“Victor…” Yuuri breathed softly.  He looked like he wanted to say more, but the firm pull of fabric as the zipper was slowly undone destroyed any words he might have spoken.

When the first inch of skin appeared, lightly damp with sweat, Victor licked his lips and kissed it.  Yuuri tensed, inhaling a breath through his nostrils, but remained still.  The zipper continued its way down, the low buzz of separating teeth filling the silent room.  With the further exposure of Yuuri’s back, Victor pressed another open-mouthed kiss to the flesh.

The scent of Yuuri was heady and rich.  Victor breathed him in deeply, wanting to drown in it, all his senses magnified in an attempt to soak up as much as he could.  He dragged the flat of his tongue over a protruding bone in Yuuri’s spine, and Yuuri shuddered, an errant moan escaping from deep in his chest.  Yuuri dipped his head forward as Victor continued his way down.

Yuuri’s body was overtaken by barely perceptible tremors, and more sweat began to bead across the expanse of his back.  Every time Victor’s tongue flicked out to lap at the taste, Yuuri’s breathing grew more and more labored.

Once he’d pulled the zipper down to Yuuri’s hips, Victor placed his fingers underneath the fabric and pushed it away.  Yuuri’s shoulders rolled forward and he bent slightly at the waist.

“I will miss this costume,” Victor hummed and pulled the mesh fabric over Yuuri’s right shoulder, revealing the fading love marks from just the other night.

Yuuri reached up and gripped Victor’s wrist gently.  “Hey, Victor…” he said, his voice hesitant.

“Yes, love?”

“I-if you want…I can leave it on a little longer.  For you.”

Victor looked up; Yuuri was peering shyly back at him over his shoulder.  Once Victor met his eyes, Yuuri glanced away again.

No matter how deep into this persona Yuuri was, no matter how comfortably he wielded the power of it over Victor, the sweet, shy part of him never truly disappeared.  The smallest, brightest hint of innocence shone beneath every smirk, every glance, and it was no less beautiful.

Victor smiled and gently pulled the costume back up over Yuuri’s shoulders.  He turned Yuuri around in his arms and hugged him close.  Yuuri buried his face in Victor’s neck, and Victor could feel the heat from his blush.

Victor would be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed at having to wait just a bit longer, but for all his brazenness on the ice, Yuuri preferred that their truly intimate moments remain private.  It was better that way; that way, Victor could have all of him, in every way he never showed to anybody else.

He caressed the back of Yuuri’s head and placed a lingering kiss atop it.  “I’d love that.”

\--

The taxi ride back to the hotel was absolute hell.  Yuuri spent the whole ride on his phone, barely paying any attention to Victor at all.  Victor wasn’t sure if he was doing it on purpose or not, but Yuuri kept licking and touching his lips.  They were small touches, just the barest tap of fingertips as he contemplated something he saw or read.  It was silly, but Victor almost felt jealous.  Those were _his_ lips, for _him_ to touch.

By the time they arrived at the hotel, Victor had almost squeezed the stuffing out of Yuuri’s plushies.  He swallowed tightly as he watched Yuuri get out of the car, and all he could think was how he wanted to tear that flashy costume off him.

In fact, Victor thought that he would do just that.

He carried Yuuri’s things— _all_ of Yuuri’s things, as a matter of fact—up to the room while Yuuri continued to scroll through his phone.  Victor knew he was ignoring him on purpose.  It didn’t matter; Yuuri would get what was coming to him in time.

When they arrived at the room, Victor set down Yuuri’s things and removed his coat.  He glanced over at Yuuri, who had sat down on his bed and was texting something on his phone.

“Yuuriiii,” Victor said softly, taking off his shoes.  “Are you hungry?

Yuuri ignored him.

“Do you want me to order room service?”

Again, Yuuri said nothing.

Victor huffed and sat down beside Yuuri on the bed.  He reached for Yuuri’s phone and gently pulled it out of his hands, tossing it to the side as he slung his arm over his shoulders.  When Yuuri turned to look at him, his expression was utterly affronted.

“Excuse m—” was all he said before Victor had his lips on him, pushing his tongue deep into Yuuri’s mouth, licking against Yuuri’s tongue, sucking up his every breath.

Yuuri grabbed the back of Victor’s skull, tugging his hair and leaning further into him.  He nibbled experimentally at Victor’s bottom lip, earning a sharp intake of breath as he bit down.

Victor couldn’t stand it one second longer.  Yuuri had been driving him crazy for hours, ever since the start of his short program.  The small taste he’d had in the locker room couldn’t hold him over any longer.  He needed all of Yuuri, and he needed him right now.

He reached for the zipper of Yuuri’s jacket and hastily ripped it down.  Yuuri did the rest, breaking away for a moment as he pulled it off his shoulders and down his arms.  He smirked, his lips puffy and his jaw slightly slack.

“You could have told me you were tired of waiting,” he said teasingly.

Yuuri still wore his costume.  Victor licked his lips as every dirty thought he’d ever had about this very image crept back into his mind.  The hundreds of late-night fantasies, the countless times he’d barely kept it together rinkside, all those practices he’d found his mind focusing on something other than Yuuri’s step sequence.

“My patience only lasts so long,” Victor replied, lightly kissing the tip of Yuuri’s nose.  “And you make it _very_ difficult, you know.”

“Well,” said Yuuri, as he grabbed Victor’s tie and pulled him in for another kiss.  “What do you have in mind?”  With his other hand, he deftly unfastened the top button on Victor’s shirt.

Victor took Yuuri’s hands and pressed light kisses to his knuckles.  He stood, keeping his eyes on Yuuri, always on Yuuri.  He slipped off his suit jacket and loosened his tie, then quietly, slowly, dropped to his knees.

It was almost tangible, the way Yuuri’s breathing changed just then.  His eyes were fixated on Victor, his cheeks flushed and rosy, his fingers tensing in the bedcovers.

Victor placed his palm underneath Yuuri’s calf, gently rubbing his thumb over the ridges of muscle.  He lifted it to his lips and kissed it once, twice, three times, until he heard Yuuri inhale sharply.  He glanced up at him with the sweetest expression he had and rubbed his cheek against Yuuri’s leg.  Above him, Yuuri sucked in a breath and bit down on his lip, color spreading rapidly across his face.

He began unlacing Yuuri’s shoe and pulled it off, tossed it aside, and placed a kiss on his bare ankle.  Yuuri’s feet were bruised, red and purple and fading, and they were lovely.  Victor set Yuuri’s foot down and moved to his other leg, repeating the same ministrations.

As he kissed the rounded bone on Yuuri’s foot and smiled to hear Yuuri suppressed small whimpers, he saw a loose thread in the seam of the costume.  He almost gave it no further thought; it wasn’t uncommon for small frays to happen.  But something Yuuri had said earlier that evening came to mind.

_“I won’t be needing this costume anymore either.”_

Victor grinned.  He looked up at Yuuri and rested his head on his leg.  He placed the palm of his hand on the inside of Yuuri’s leg and slowly rubbed upward, to his soft inner thigh, watching Yuuri grow redder and redder the further up his fingers traveled.

The fabric that stretched over Yuuri’s skin was so warm and still slightly damp from his sweat.  As Victor reached the junction of his hip, he pressed his thumb into the bone and rubbed firmly, careful to keep his touch away from where—it was becoming quite clear—Yuuri really wanted it.

“You’re teasing me,” Yuuri said, his voice quiet in an attempt to keep it steady.  He swallowed thickly.

“Am I?”  Victor fluttered his eyelashes and smiled.  “What do you know about teasing, Yuuri Katsuki?”

“Oh.”  Yuuri chuckled once, a breathy exhale.  “This and that.”

Victor kissed his knee, dragging his fingers with featherlight touches across his pelvic bones until he reached the piece of loose black fabric hanging from Yuuri’s right hip.

He grasped it tightly, his heart racing and adrenaline rushing to his brain, and did what he’d been positively dying to do for two years.

With a fierce, almost wild burst of strength, he ripped the half-skirt from the costume, leaving a frayed hole just above Yuuri’s hip.  The sound cut through the room, and Victor could hear the echo of it over and over again.  He had to pause to catch his breath, because just the act of having done that—having _finally_ been able to do that—was sending all the blood from his brain directly to his cock.  A small sliver of Yuuri’s abdomen was exposed, peeking out from the tear.

Yuuri stared, wide-eyed and open-mouthed.  There was a delay of about five charged seconds before he squeaked out, “ _Victor!_ ”

Victor rubbed the torn piece of cloth against his cheek, making a show of breathing in the scent that clung to it like raw perfume.  A familiar, _welcome_ darkness was settling in Yuuri’s expression.  Victor grinned and kissed the cloth in his hand.

Quick and desperate, Yuuri grabbed Victor by the tie and yanked him up.  “You tore my costume,” he muttered lowly, his tone reminiscent of a growl.  Victor’s heart sped up, and he parted his lips, his body moving of its own accord towards Yuuri.

“Do you know,” Yuuri continued, tugging harder, but keeping a breath of empty space between their mouths, “how much this cost?”

“If I remember correctly,” Victor replied, licking his lips, “some thousands of Euros?”

“Two thousand.”  Yuuri’s glare was drawing Victor into its depths, and he couldn’t wait to start drowning.  “Two.  Thousand.  Euros.  What are you going to do to make up for this?”

“Well, it’s already ruined, isn’t it?”  Victor rubbed the torn piece of cloth over Yuuri’s cheek, and with his other hand, reached for one of the glass embellishments that spread across the costume’s waist.  He picked at one of the smaller pieces with his fingernails until he worked it loose.  He held it up where Yuuri could see it, the glass shining and reflecting the light.  “I don’t think anything can be salvaged now.”

“Hmm,” said Yuuri, pursing his lips and scowling.  He glanced down at Victor’s chest, then back up at his smirking face.  Next thing Victor knew, Yuuri gripped his shirt with both hands and yanked, sending one button flying off into the room.  He paused just long enough to savor Victor’s shocked expression, then yanked again until another button was torn free.

“This is my favorite shirt,” Victor said warningly.  It wasn’t really, of course, in fact he barely remembered which one he had put one that morning.

“It’s cheap,” Yuuri bit back with a smile.  He yanked again; another button was lost.

In response, Victor worked free another glass embellishment.  He softly dragged a blunt edge across Yuuri’s cheek.  “I don’t do cheap.  If it’s not the best, I don’t want it.”

He dropped the shining shard into Yuuri’s lap.  The pieces weren’t real glass, of course, but they were a very high-quality resin that glittered like diamonds of ice.  They had no real sharp edges, and they wouldn’t hurt Yuuri.

Victor put his knee on the bed between Yuuri’s thighs.  He could feel Yuuri’s excitement, the strain of the stretchy material, and he rose up to tower over him.  The defiant look on Yuuri’s face was delicious.  Victor wanted to do vile things to him.

They shared a single, fleeting glance, imperceptible if anyone else were to see it.  Victor asked a single question, and Yuuri responded.

_Yes._

Victor put his hand on Yuuri’s chest and shoved him backwards, his body bouncing once against the mattress as he landed.

“This costume always was too flashy on you,” Victor said as he loosened his tie and removed it.  It slipped out of the collar with a whisper.  “Too many people look at you when you wear it.”

Yuuri laughed and pushed his hair back.  His eyes caught a glint of light from the bedside lamp, sparkling like ice.  “I _want_ people to look at me,” he giggled.  “Why do you think I wear it?”

“You wear it for me.”  Victor leaned over him, one hand pressed into the bed by Yuuri’s cheek.

Yuuri pouted, the corners of his mouth turning down in an exaggerated frown.  “But you barely even watched me tonight.”

“I saw everything I needed to.”  Victor took Yuuri’s chin in his hand, rubbing his thumb over his bottom lip.  Yuuri’s tongue flicked out and licked his thumbnail.  Then he grabbed Victor’s wrist and pulled his hand closer, wrapping his lips around Victor’s thumb.

Victor leaned in for a real kiss—because truly, it had been too long so he’d felt those coy lips on his own—but Yuuri turned his head at the last second.

“You’re making this very hard on me,” Victor said against Yuuri’s cheek.

“I wonder where I could have learned that.”

Victor pushed his knee roughly forward into Yuuri’s crotch, eliciting a deep-throated grunt from the little devil beneath him.  He grabbed Yuuri’s face in both hands and shoved his tongue deep inside his mouth, sliding and pushing against that coquettish tongue, digging his fingers into his jawbone so he could feel every strain and every movement.

Yuuri reached up and grabbed fistfuls of Victor’s shirt.  He pulled and yanked it over Victor’s shoulders; another button came loose.  Yuuri’s whole body strained, pushing up against Victor and trying to roll.  Victor resisted just enough to give Yuuri a struggle, and then allowed Yuuri to flip them over.

Yuuri ripped the last remaining button from Victor’s shirt and let it fall from his chest.  “You look away from me,” Yuuri panted, “and you tear my clothes.  And you have yet to apologize.”

All Victor did was lie there and grin.

“And until you do,” Yuuri continued, “I don’t think I’ll touch you at all.”

Victor laughed.  “My love, we both know you wouldn’t be able to help yourself.”

“Oh?”  He raised a dark eyebrow.  “I don’t need you.  I can take care of things on my own.”

“Is that so?”  Victor placed his hands behind his head, making sure Yuuri could see his biceps flexing as he did so.  “I’d love to see that.”

“Oh.”  Yuuri dipped his head and laughed.  “Oh no.  You don’t get to watch.”

He showed Victor the discarded tie, just before placing it over Victor’s eyes and holding the ends against the mattress.  “You broke my only rule, remember?  And since you apparently can’t be bothered to keep your eyes on me, I don’t want you to see anything I do anymore.”

“You _are_ cruel.”

“I’m not the cruel one, Vitya.”

Victor sucked in a stuttering breath.  “Forgive me, my love.  What can I do to make it up to you?”

“Hmm.  How quickly you change your tune once you don’t get what you want when you want it.”

A breath of hot air against his lips told Victor that Yuuri was close enough to kiss.  Victor leaned up in an attempt to do just that, but Yuuri moved back.  He slowly lowered the tie from Victor’s eyes.

“You’re getting desperate,” Yuuri teased, a flash of victory in his eyes.  “You’d better figure out what you want before I take it _all_ away.”

“You know what I want, Yuuri,” Victor purred.  He rubbed the front of Yuuri’s thigh, over the mesh designs that revealed both just enough and not enough of his skin.  The bit of Yuuri’s torso exposed by the removal of the half-skirt was taunting him.  “I want the most beautiful woman in town.”

This time, he let himself reach between Yuuri’s legs and swiftly dragged his fingertips across the straining hardness beneath.  Yuuri choked out a moan, and was caught off guard just long enough for Victor to dig his fingers beneath his collar and _rip_ , straight down the mesh that covered Yuuri’s shoulder.

Yuuri’s mouth hung open and he stared at the remains of his sleeve.  His long arm was laid bare, all lithe muscles and smooth skin.  The torn mesh hung sloppily off his elbow.

“There she is,” Victor whispered, sitting up slowly.  Yuuri’s head whipped forward again, and he didn’t resist at all as Victor wrapped his arms around him and rolled him back down on the bed, on his back, right where he belonged.

Victor grabbed the torn sleeve and ripped it the rest of the way down Yuuri’s arm, leaving his silky flesh exposed.  Yuuri’s chest heaved up and down, sweat gathering at his brow and his eyes dark and dilated.  With each passing second Yuuri’s exhales became vocal until it sounded like he was whimpering.  Victor grit his teeth and began to unfasten his own belt.  He couldn’t wait, he couldn’t _wait_.

Equally impatient, Yuuri helped him along, and ended up tearing off the button of Victor’s pants.  Shaking, warm fingers unzipped him, and Victor sucked in air through his teeth.  He hadn’t even _begun_ to do everything he had in mind for Yuuri tonight.

He practically crashed into Yuuri’s lips, breathing into him and drinking up the taste of his tongue, his mouth, his air.  Images and memories of Yuuri skating rushed into his mind, and all the levied frustration that he’d ever felt came flooding back.  It broke past his carefully constructed restraint, filling him up from his heart to his fingertips, and all he could think about was how much he loved Yuuri, how much he loved this man, in all of his ways.  In all his shyness, his confidence, his innocence, his skill.  Nothing set Victor ablaze like Yuuri and his multitude of surprises.

Victor grabbed at the front of Yuuri’s costume again and tore through the mesh that covered his chest.  The material split against his fingers with ease.  The spandex was less forgiving once he reached it, and he grabbed it in an angry fist, tugging so hard that Yuuri’s body jerked beneath him.  There was something lewdly forbidden about the sound of ripping fabric, and Victor was quickly finding out that he liked it— _very_ much.

It was like peeling away an eggshell and revealing something raw and real.  Yuuri’s pale skin stood out starkly against the deep black of the costume.  He was purity, shining through.

“Victor,” Yuuri whined in the brief moments that Victor pulled away from his mouth.  “Victor, please….”

Yuuri’s hips were lurching forward as he tried to grind up into him.  He hooked his hands behind Victor’s neck and pulled him close, fingers wandering up into his hair and pressing against his skull dizzyingly hard.

Victor grabbed Yuuri’s naked arm and kissed the inside of his elbow.  He worked his way down to Yuuri’s fingers.  They were so warm, and he took them into his mouth, swirling the heat of Yuuri’s skin inside his mouth like expensive wine.

Yuuri whined again.  “ _Please_ …” he begged.

Victor smiled and met his eyes.  He pulled Yuuri’s fingers out of his mouth and kissed them.  Gently placing Yuuri’s arm back on the mattress, he said, “Anything for you, love.”

Yuuri had been embarrassed at the suggestion when it had first come up, but now they never traveled anywhere without the necessary supplies.  Sometimes they came in handy, other times they weren’t needed.

 _Better to have it and not need it, than need it and not have it_ , Victor thought as he retrieved a condom and small bottle of lube from his luggage.  When he went back to Yuuri on the bed, he found Yuuri was already trying to touch himself through the spandex.

“Now, now,” Victor said, removing his pants and kicking them aside.  He repositioned himself above Yuuri, his knees squeezing his hips tight.  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“You’re taking too long,” Yuuri huffed, pounding his fist onto the mattress.  “Hurry _up_.”

Victor shuffled backwards and sat on Yuuri’s squirming legs as he grabbed the waistband of the costume pants in both hands.  He yanked as hard as he could, trying to tear it apart, but this was much less forgiving than the mesh.  Nothing so insignificant would trip him up, however.

Lowering his head to Yuuri’s waist, he grabbed the costume between his teeth, and with every motion, every pull, every twist, the front of his throat dragged against the hardness that was concealed beneath.  By the time he finally chewed a sufficient tear, Yuuri’s entire body was trembling.  One hand was tangled up in Victor’s hair; the other shoved into his own mouth, from what it sounded like.  When Victor looked up, Yuuri was indeed biting down on his knuckles.

Now that the way was easier, it took almost no effort to tear open the front of Yuuri’s pants.  The rip traveled down the inseam and caught at the pattern in the left leg.  Victor crudely ripped the loose fabric off and away.  Yuuri’s leg was bare from his hip to his knee; Victor knelt back down and rubbed his cheek on the blazing hot flesh of the inner thigh.

He wanted to stay here, just where he could feel the warmth and scent and essence of Yuuri surrounding him, but he knew better than to keep him waiting for too much longer.  Reaching for the bottle of lube, he sat back up and popped open the cap, drizzling it sloppily all over Yuuri’s cock and watching it drip down.  Victor grasped Yuuri hard enough to pull forth a loud whine and gave him three slow, meticulous, dragging strokes.

When he let go, Yuuri practically cried out, but he bit it back, chewed it up, and swallowed it down.  Victor watched Yuuri squirm as he pushed down his briefs and coated himself with the excess on his hand.

“You’re awful,” Yuuri snapped.  “You’ve made a mess.  Look at me.”

“I don’t think I could stop if I wanted to,” replied Victor, ripping open the condom wrapper and expertly rolling it on.  He crawled forward and caught Yuuri’s lips in his own again.  This time, the kisses were gentler, softer, slower.  Yuuri’s legs were still squirming and twitching in tightly wound anticipation.

Victor knew Yuuri was nervous.  He still got nervous after all this time.  It was Victor’s job to take care of that, to take care of him, and make sure that everything was perfect for them both.

And so, when he pushed his oil-coated finger inside, he pushed his tongue up against Yuuri’s at the same time, distracting just enough from the initial pain that Yuuri barely felt it.

They continued that way until Yuuri was ready.  Yuuri whined only a few times, but he relaxed gently.  He opened his eyes, his gaze piercing into Victor, and nodded silently.

As soon as Victor was in, he had to stop and catch his breath to keep from finishing right there.  Yuuri didn’t allow Victor to do this often—it was perhaps what he was least comfortable with, though he was warming up to it—and it caught Victor off guard every single time he was inside him.  Victor rested his forehead against Yuuri’s, panting deeply into Yuuri’s open mouth.  He muttered a prayer of gratitude, stuffing down the boiling, unraveling pleasure in his stomach before he lost control.

He sucked in a breath and jerked his hips forward as hard as he could.

“Ah!  _Fuck_ , Victor!” Yuuri gasped, grabbing Victor’s arms like he was about to fall.

“Are you all right, love?”

“Yes…yes, I just…oh, _fuck_ ….”

Victor kissed Yuuri’s bottom lip and smiled.  “What filthy language you’ve picked up.  It sounds beautiful coming from your mouth.”

He jerked forward again, drawing out another, louder, _longer_ keen, and it was taking absolutely _everything_ for Victor to hold it together right now.

The headboard slammed against the wall on the next thrust.  Victor sat up so he could see Yuuri’s face, so he could burn the sight of it into his memory.  Yuuri’s costume hung off his glistening body in tatters.  The destruction was beautiful.  Victor grabbed fistfuls of it in his hands and tore away another long strip of cloth, revealing the heaving, toned expanse of Yuuri’s abs.

He had fantasized about doing this so many times.  About grabbing Yuuri straight from the rink and tearing off that costume, feeling it turn to pieces in his hands.  Now that he was finally doing it—he could hardly believe he was actually _doing_ it—he could barely handle the raw ecstasy of it all.

Yuuri was coming apart; his beautiful, full cheeks were flushed, and his dark eyelashes were sparkling.  Victor squeezed his eyes shut, because if he wasn’t careful, he would come from this sight alone.

“ _Victor_.”

The voice was so authoritative, so firm, Victor almost wasn’t sure it had even come from Yuuri’s mouth.  He stopped moving as his eyes flew open.  Yuuri was glaring at him.

“How many times—” he paused and took in a deep breath, “—do I have to tell you?  Don’t you… _ever_ …take your eyes off me.”

Victor smiled.  “I never will, Yuuri.  I promise.”

He laced their fingers together against the mattress and began his movements again.  He dared not look away from Yuuri for even an instant.  Even blinking felt too long to keep his eyes off him.  Victor adjusted the angle of his hips until he found one that Yuuri liked, and he sped up, going faster, harder, pushing Yuuri to take more.

Yuuri gripped Victor’s hand painfully tight and turned his head to the side, exhaling hot, wet breaths over their entwined fingers.

“Faster,” he breathed.  “Faster, faster, please, faster….”

Victor couldn’t have possibly disobeyed, not for anything.  With each thrust, he drew out whines that turned to yelps, which turned to shouts, until finally Yuuri was _sobbing_ Victor’s name.

Yuuri came with a noise that Victor was certain could have been heard by the entire floor.  Victor’s finish came immediately afterward, and it was a wonder that he lasted even a second longer.  He rutted into Yuuri’s body, grabbing up every final burst of pleasure, and watched Yuuri as he came down slowly.

The face Yuuri made right after an orgasm was exactly the same as when he finished skating.  When Victor had first learned that, it had become a million times harder to keep his hands to himself during practice.

For a minute, neither of them spoke.  They took a moment to catch their breath, letting the haze of lust clear from their senses.  Yuuri gently squeezed Victor’s hand and smiled up at him.

Victor brought Yuuri’s hand to his lips and kissed it.  “You’re a dangerous man, Yuuri Katsuki,” he said with a wink.

Yuuri giggled and covered his face with his free hand.  Victor looked down at his handiwork.  He’d ripped the costume beyond repair.  Yuuri’s right arm lay completely bare, not a trace of the sleeve left on him.  The hole over his hip had widened when Victor had torn the costume across his chest.  The right leg of the pants were mostly intact, though there was nothing left to cover Yuuri’s cock, and half of the left leg was torn down to his calf.  Nothing about the costume was even remotely fixable, and Yuuri looked lecherously indecent, the tatters of it falling all across his body.

Victor had completely destroyed two thousand Euros, and it was worth every cent.

He kissed him and said, “So dangerous, and so fucking beautiful.”

“Mmm, language,” Yuuri teased.  He wrapped his arms around Victor and pulled him down for another kiss.

“I don’t want to ever forget the way you look right now,” Victor said between kisses.  “I’m going to have a hundred of these made just for you, and tear every single one of them off you.”

“You’re going to make those costume designers very upset.”

“I’m sure they’d get over it after a couple thousand Euros.”

Yuuri chuckled, hugged Victor close, and rolled them over again.  He sat back, sinking deep on top of him.  Yuuri’s hair was a mess, mussed from rubbing against the sheets, and he dragged his tongue over puffed, red lips.  He was wrecked, but he wasn’t anywhere near finished.

Victor flushed; he was already getting hard again.  God, what had he done to deserve this man?

“Well.”  Yuuri pushed his palm up Victor’s chest and grinned.  “I guess we’d better make the most of what’s left of this one…don’t you think?  After all—” he lifted his left hand, the one still covered with an intact sleeve “—you didn’t finish.”

**Author's Note:**

> Figure skating costumes are VERY expensive (upwards of about $3000 for some of the extremely expensive ones), but does Victor Nikiforov care? Not even a little.
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed because this was a lot of fun for me to write! =)


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